DreamSMP one-shots ||

// Taking the blame. //

!!!!!! PLEASE READ BEFORE CONTINUING: this oneshot is probably one of the heaviest ones ive ever written/will ever write. I am BEGGING you that if any of the trigger/content warnings below trigger you, do NOT read on. This chapter will deal with heavy themes of mental illness, as well as parental neglect. Please be safe, and take care of yourself.

This one was inspired by smp!Phil being a shit dad, Phil & Tommy wings!au, & the techbur piglintwins!au. Im quite proud of this ngl, i put a lot of effort into it & i like how it turned out, enjoy :)

TW/CW: Dissociative/derealization episode, mental illness, depressive themes, panic attack, hallucinations, self-harm, parental neglect, blood
~

     Tommy sat on his bed alone in his room reminiscing of his time as a young child, something he seemed to do often. Things were so simple back then, and he didn't even realize.
   His  father had taken him and his two older brothers to this large grass field so he could help Tommy learn how to use his wings. As an avian humanoid similar to his father, every hybrid had to learn at some point. Tommy was only around 7 at the time, and despite having the appendages since he was born, he still couldn't seem to figure out how to use them properly.
     He remembered how much he adored his father's long, soft wings that stretched out for what seemed like miles to little Tommy. He loved feeling them, the silk-like texture of their feathers at his fingertips. Phil would often hold Tommy close, and hum him lullabys to sleep while he wrapped the both of them in the bird-like pennons.
     Tommy would tell Phil he wanted to be just like him, and look as cool at he did when he grew up. Phil assured Tommy his wings would grow just as big as his own, if not bigger, making the small boy's blue eyes light up in excitement.
     The boy remembered his dad trying to teach him how to fly just like he could. Phil was worried when Tommy didn't understand how at his age, considering Phil was capable at the age of 4. He'd scold Wilbur and Techno (his two older twin sons) when they'd make fun of Tommy, and he'd bandage the blonde's knees and palms when he scraped them from falling so much. Phil would tell Tommy that since they were both part piglin and not avian like them, they were just jealous. Tommy would laugh, and stick his tongue out at the older boys.
     On the much harder days, Tommy would cry because he wouldn't get it right until many years later, but Phil would always be there to tell him it was okay, and that everyone learns differently and at different paces.
     Only when Tommy was 10 did he finally get it right. He remembered the look on his father's face when he landed back on the ground after soaring through the air nearly flawlessly; the happiness, the proudness, the astonishment in his eyes. That was his boy, who was suddenly all grown up.
     "Im so proud of you, son." Phil said, hugging Tommy tightly. "I always was, and I always will be."
     Tommy blinked, willing himself back to reality. He was 16 now, only living with Wilbur (the younger of the two older twins) who's 20.
     Ever since Phil had given up on them, something deep in Tommy's heart had been festering into something much more than just a dark, futile feeling. He wished he could understand, he wished he could ask Wilbur how he felt about the whole situation, but the two had always avoided the topic completely. They were silently there for eachother nonetheless, but some days everything just seemed to way much heavier on Tommy's skinny shoulders.
Today was yet another one of those days.
     Tommy stood up, exiting the room and walking into the livingroom where Wilbur sat on the couch reading a book. He spent a lot of his time reading, Tommy noticed. Him and Techno were similar in that way; burying their minds in thick books either about past history or fiction. Though, Techno liked reading because it was his passion. Tommy felt like maybe Wilbur only used it as a distraction.
     'Tell him how you feel. Don't hold it in anymore, just tell him. Surely, it will make everything feel better, or at lease somewhat okay. Just say something.' Tommy thought to himself. He was never good at explaining his emotions or talking them out. Predominantly, he had never really been taught how. Though one thing was certain, one thing he knew for sure; something was very wrong deep inside him. He was careless, and broken, and tired. He just didn't know how to ask for help.
     He missed him. Didn't Phil know, that his youngest needed him so desperately? Didn't Phil know, that Tommy spent his nights staying awake and wishing he didn't feel like his father hated his guts for a reason he wasn't even sure of?
     Tommy stood, staring at Wilbur who was facing away, probably unaware of his presence. He swallowed the ball in his throat, shifting on his heels anxiously.
     "Uh, hey Wil?" Tommy asked, trying to keep his voice steady.
     "Yeah, what's up?" Wilbur asked, not looking up from the book. Tommy tried to use his mind to force Wilbur to look up at him like in those movies he watched, wishing he would notice the hurt in his eyes and do something. Sadly, Tommy was only half-bird, not telepathic.
     Tommy paused for a moment, but Wil just kept reading. "Do you... when do you think Phil and Techno will be back?" he asked quietly, a bit hesitant.
     Wilbur hummed. "You know how they are, Toms."  was his response.
     See, when Tommy was 12, Phil had seemed to have taken some special interest in Techno only. Something about him, Phil just adored much more than his other sons. He saw something in Techno, and practically became his favorite in Tommy's eyes. Techno was good at many things; sparring, fighting, he was insanely intelligent, and he had the confidence to show it.
     Phil ended up tossing Wilbur and Tommy to the side over time to focus on Techno and his potential. They'd leave and go on these trips, and come back weeks, sometimes months later but only for supplies. It hurt Tommy, but he never let himself show it. Tommy knew it hurt Wilbur as well, but he seemed to handle it much better since he was older.
     The last time Phil had returned was a month ago, but he seemed to have disappeared just as fast as he got back. Tommy wondered if this time he'd be gone for good and wouldn't come back, maybe he had abandoned him and Wilbur for the last time.
     'Please just look at me, please help me. I don't know how to ask for help, I feel like I'm drowning. I miss him, I miss what me and him had, I miss what we all had, don't you?' Tommy looked down at his feet, seeing his wings behind him in his peripheral vision.
     His wings; the one permanent reminder of the person that had caused him so much pain. They were even white, just like his. Why did Phil have to leave him? What was so wrong with him, that he wasn't worth sticking around for?
He'd wonder what he had done to deserve this. He never thought he was a bad kid, and wasn't ever told he was. Maybe he picked on his brothers too much, maybe he was too loud or chaotic too much of the time. He tried to blame his father's disappearance on something. There had to have been a reason. There had to have been.
     'Please. I can't walk out of this room alone, please notice me. Please.'
     A breath in, a breath out.
     "Yeah, I guess you're right." Tommy said so quietly, he wasn't even sure Wilbur heard him. He supposed it didn't matter, anyway.
     His feet padded along the floor, walking down the hall and into Wilbur's room. Everything felt like it was in slow motion, nothing felt real to him in the moment. This seemed to happen a lot to him lately.
     He opened one of his brother's chests, pulling out one of his smaller, but sharper swords.
     He was about to leave the room, when a picture on his dresser caught Tommy's eye. It was small and framed in dark wood, perched on the furniture as if it meant for him to see it in this moment.
     The picture had Wilbur on the left, Techno on the right, Tommy in the middle. He had to have been only 8 or 9, the older piglins around 13. Tommy remembered, of course Phil had taken this picture.
     Tommy was never close with Techno, not in the way that Wilbur was. Tommy supposed that maybe Techno leaving hurt Wilbur much more than Phil leaving did, after all, they seemed to be so close that nothing could've broken them apart. That is, until the two left that first time.
     Tommy looked down at the sword, and back up at the photo. He lifted his hand to flip the picture so it was facing down on the dresser, walking out of the room.
     Tommy checked to make sure Wilbur was nowhere around, and snuck into the bathroom. He closed the door behind him softly, feeling himself shake.
     He'd thought about doing this many times before, but was always able to stop himself. He didn't know what had changed, maybe it was seeing his father refuse to make eye contact with him the last time he was home. Maybe it was just him coming to his limit. 
     Tommy looked in the mirror at himself, the handle of the sword gripped tight in his hand.
He though he knew who he was, but things just weren't the same anymore. In the reflection, he saw an insecure boy who always doubted himself. He wished his father didn't have this much affect on him, but in the end it was never something he could control.
     It was like Phil was dead, he might as well have been to Tommy and Wilbur. He was never around, so what exactly was it that made him stop caring all of a sudden?
     'It's your fault. I don't know what you did to make them leave, but it had to have been something. It had to have been you.' Tommy said to his reflection in his mind.
     He eyed the wings protruding from his back. He hated them with every fibre of his being inside of him. All they did was remind him of his neglectful dad; the man who he realized never really loved him if he was only around just to leave like this.
     'You're not good enough, you're not deserving. You never were, clearly. Who needs those ugly wings anyway? You never use them anymore, they only weigh you down. They're useless, you should've gotten rid of them a long time ago.'
     Tommy blinked. Nothing felt real.
     Suddenly he was in a dream-like state. Something had take over him, and the walls seemed to be closing in around him. He tried to look into the mirror again, but he couldnt make out what he was seeing because he felt so dizzy.
     "Tommy you've been in there for so long, would you hurry up?" a voice asked, he couldn't seem to make out who it was.
     "Wh..." Tommy's eyelids felt heavy. The blade made an ear piercing noice as it dropped, clattering against the tile. Suddenly, Tommy's hands were covered in red liquid.
     He blinked again. This wasn't real, was it? He couldn't feel anything, and was seeing through a dark vignette.
     'Blood. There's blood on my hands.'
     "Tommy?" the voice repeated.
     He tried to respond, but his mouth wouldn't open. His limbs felt heavy, and it took more and more of his energy to hold his ground. He looked back into the mirror.
     Tommy gasped. There was blood everywhere; on the sink, on the mirror, all over him. His wings weren't in the reflection where they should've been; they were gone.
     "I'm coming in, okay?" the door swung open. Tommy fell against the wall, a dull ache wrapping its way around his head.
     "Wh- Tommy!" Wilbur rushed in, kneeling down in front of him. He sounded like he was underwater to Tommy. "Hey- hey!" he tried getting his attention.
     "The.. the blood..." Tommy whispered, eyes closed tight, holding his palms out.
     "Tommy? Tommy, look at me." Wilbur shook the younger boy's shoulders.
     "Get it off.. get it off!" Tommy shouted, rubbing his hands against the pants on his legs frantically.
     "What? Tommy- Tommy what are you talking about?! There's nothing there!" Wilbur shook him again slightly harder this time, causing Tommy to snap back into reality.
     "W... Wh- Wilbur?" Tommy looked into his brother's eyes, searching. His eyes flickered behind the man, to the sword on the floor behind him. Wilbur scanned Tommy's face, confused and scared. He turned around, following Tommy's gaze down to the sharp weapon.
     "T- Tommy? Why- what's my sword doing in here?" Wilbur asked, turning back to the boy sitting in front of him.
     "There was- there.. it had.. I.." Tommy turned slightly, noticing the familiar feathers of his wings. They were still there. There were still there, his mind had tricked him.
     The boy turned back to Wilbur, his eyes still wide and panicky. He shook under his older brother's seemingly freezing touch.
     "Tommy, what the hell is going on?" Wilbur asked, looking into his eyes. "Tommy tell me what happened."
     "My wings... I was... was going to..." Tommy whispered, looking away. His muscles began to cramp because his body was so tense.
     Wilbur looked at his younger brother, suddenly not recognizing him. This wasn't Tommy. This was something that had taken over his brother and made him miserable, made him almost do something that could've taken his own life. Did he even realize that?
     "Tommy you- that would've- that would've killed you Tommy! What's gotten into you!" Wilbur shouted. He didn't mean to sound so angry, he was just afraid. Afraid of what could've happened to the only brother he had left.
     Tommy flinched, tears spilling from his waterlines. His eyes slowly made their way back up to Wilbur's, who's whole body felt numb because of the situation.
     "Help me..." Tommy whimpered, suddenly breathing short, quick breaths.
     "O- okay- okay, hey! hey, its okay." Wilbur moved forward, embracing his younger brother, turning to comforting him instead of freaking out.
Tommy hadn't been hugged in so long, he had forgotten how grounding it was, to be held by another person with a heartbeat.
     "No- no I- I don't- I don't know what happened Wilbur! I didn't- I wasn't- There- there was blood, and- and-" Tommy stuttered, as Wilbur shushed him. He never meant for this to happen. He had lost control of himself, and it scared the absolute shit out of him.
     "Okay. Okay, look, you're alright okay? It was just a panic attack. Nothing happened, everything's okay." Wilbur said, trying to reassure him as he held him tight.
     Tommy nodded quickly, his cheeks wet with tears. "I didn't- they- they remind me of dad. I'm- I miss him, Wil." Tommy cried. Wilbur's heart broke in his chest, tears now pricking at his own eyes. Wil knew Phil's actions must've been hard on him, but he never in a million years thought he'd find Tommy in their bathroom having an episode like this. He was so scared, but tried his hardest to be strong for his brother. He needed to help him, he needed to be there for him now more than ever.
     "I know. I know, me too." Wilbur said, not letting go. He didn't want to imagine what could've happened had he not shown up. He couldn't imagine anything bad happening to Tommy, he cared for him so much more than he cared for anyone else.
     After 15 minutes, Tommy's sobs slowly turned to small hiccups and quick sniffles.
     "You're okay. Everything's okay, everything will be okay, alright?" Wilbur said, repeating himself. "You have me. I'm not leaving. I promise you, I'll never leave."
     Tommy buried his face in the crook of Wilbur's neck, grabbing the front of his shirt in a tight fist. "Promise? Promise me, Wil."
     "I promise. I love you, Tommy. It isn't your fault, none of it was your fault." Wilbur said quietly. "I promise them leaving had nothing to do with you."
     Tommy nodded, too tired to speak any more.
     Wilbur pulled back slightly, cupping Tommy's cheek in his right hand. He wiped the tears away with his thumb, looking over the young boy's face. He looked so exhausted. "Lets get you some rest, okay? And some water. How does that sound?"
     Tommy nodded again, basking in feeling this cared about once again. He needed this, so much.
     "Okay, cmon." Wil helped him up, making sure he didn't fall and was able to walk. Wilbur picked up the sword from the ground, holding it blade facing to the ground so it wouldn't hurt anyone. His whole body shook as the reality of the situation set in.
     "Okay?" Wilbur brought him to his room, setting down the sword momentarily and laying Tommy in his bed, careful of his wings. He pulled the covers over the boy, who passed out almost immediately. Wilbur sighed, the heaviness in his chest lingering.
     He turned around, taking the sword and locking in away in a separate chest in his room.
     He returned to Tommy's room to sit on the bed at his feet, the boy having fallen into a deep sleep. His chest rose and fell softly as Wilbur watched. He must've been so drained, Wilbur wondered if he had been getting any sleep at all.
     Wilbur felt like a shit brother, but knew this was no time for self pity. Tommy was handling this much worse than he was, and Wilbur wondered how long he had silently been struggling, and blaming himself for the absence of their father and brother.
     He knew he had to step up, and be there for Tommy better than Phil ever was.
     He vowed he would protect Tommy, and be more observant of him.
     He vowed to himself, that he would try and be everything that their father wasn't.